Right in the Solar Plexus - 'Loki and the Loon'
by FroaderickFronkensteen
Summary: A oneshot fanfic based on the 'Loki and the Loon' webcomic over on Tumblr. Loki makes a startling confession to Tom one morning, turning his life upside down


AN: This is based off the webcomic Loki and The Loon. If you have not read it here:

* * *

Tom woke up a two minutes before the alarm was set to go off. He listened in the dark, waiting for perhaps a sound or movement in the little hotel room to provide a possible explanation for the abrupt wakening. He got out of the bed and lazily made his way to the bathroom. Before closing the bathroom door he took one last look around the room. Despite what his eyes told him he could not shake the feeling of being watched. He decided to ignore this odd feeling and went about his usual morning routine. The instant he finished brushing his teeth, and only a moment before putting down his toothbrush, he heard his phone go off. He retrieved it from the nightstand, reading 'Luke' on the little LCD screen, and accepted the call.

"Good mor – "

"Midgardian, we need to speak"

"Loki?" He could have sworn the phone said 'Luke' not 'Loki', but it was fairly early in the morning and this mistake was not uncommon. "I was just going for my morning run. Can we talk lat– " the line went dead.

"No, Thomas, I wish to speak with you now." Loki was now sitting in the previously unoccupied hotel desk chair which sat across from the bed. Instead of the usual Asgardian armor, Loki wore a finely tailored black suit, accompanied by a pale green scarf. Tom wondered whether Loki had his clothes custom made or if he woke up, decided what he wanted to wear, and materialized fabric around him. In his hand he fiddled with an elegant walking stick. Much to Tom's relief the stick appeared to be a normal black walking stick with a regular gold handle and not the one with the blue orb that turned into a scepter.

"Alright," said Tom, flicking through his Incoming Call list, the last call did come from Luke. A horrible thought struck him. "Is, um, is Luke okay? You didn't mess with him or anything did you?" Tom sat down on the edge of the bed, since Loki had taken the only other available seat in the room.

"In a way, that is what needs to be discussed," Loki whispered sadly, eyes to the floor.

"No, Loki, you didn't…"

"What? No!" Loki crushed the walking stick to the point where Tom could hear the wood cracking under the force. "Why must you all assume I do nothing but go around killing useless mortals for sheer enjoyment? You unjustly suspect the worst of me!" Tom's right eyebrow rose subconsciously to question the accuracy of that statement. Loki's anger deflated back into the previous state of sadness. Crossing his legs he began again, "Fear not, Midgardian. Doing any real damage to Luke is not an option simply because Luke and I are one in the same. Tom, I am Luke. And –"

"Wait, what? How can you be Luke?" Tom laughed. "Why would you be Luke?"

"If you would just let me tell you then you would know," Loki spoke in a soft, albeit slightly annoyed, whisper, "Now, will you allow me to speak or shall I just tear out your throat rendering you incapable of interruption?"

"Right. Very sorry," Tom learned early on it was easier to pretend to listen to Loki when he wanted to talk than to deal with any temper tantrums which would come about from not getting his way. Nine times out of ten Tom could talk him out such catastrophic events (like changing Russia's geological location to make it visible from a backyard in Alaska, or luring Benedict Cumberbatch to the tops of high buildings with intention of pushing him off them just to see 'how he could have done it'), leading him to believe Loki just needed someone to care enough to listen to his plans in full, and instead suggest going for ice cream, or perhaps catch a movie down at the local cinema. "Please, go on."

"I'm very disappointed you did not work it out by yourself. Surely you've read Eight Days of Luke" Tom had never read the book, but he did know that Loki liked to keep tabs on his various incarnations, fictional or otherwise. Knowing Loki's love of all things god of Mischief, Tom assumed the book contained some connection between the names Loki and Luke.

"Right, yes. Should have worked that one out myself. Gosh do I feel like a tit," he shrugged his shoulders and gave his best 'I'm-a-charming-idiot' smile. This should have given Loki a false sense of superiority, but his glum expression stayed put. Tom licked his lips as a wave of anxiety hit him. This conversation was not going to end well.

"Yes, Thomas, you are as ignorant as a Bilgesnipe. Now, as you may well remember, my goal is to rule this planet, and to complete this task I require an army."

"What does this have to do with you being Luke?" Loki's eyes went cold. "Sorry. It's just… your plans are… so elaborate and far toocomplicated for a mere Midgardian man to follow clearly," especially at 5 o'clock in the morning without a proper breakfast and his usual run.

"I had to make sure no harm would come to you while I built my army. Taking the persona of Luke allowed me to keep an eye on you at all times."

"That's very kind of you Loki. So you've been building an army? Do you have many, um, soldiers in your army yet?"

"I intend to use your army to assemble my ranks" Loki flashed a smile so quickly Tom initially mistook it for a twitch. "What do they call themselves, Hiddlestoners? Hiddle's Army? Not worth my time to keep track of their temporary title."

"Loki those aren't soldiers. It's just something silly on Twitter – I've explained Twitter to you, remember? –they aren't an actual army. No soldiers, just fans."

"But I could shape them into soldiers."

Tom's first thoughts were a solid combination along the lines of: 'Nope, nope, nooope. That is terrible, morally unacceptable, THE WORST idea, so much can go wrong with that, please dear God no!' Unfortunately if he told him this the Asgardian would set out to complete his task before Tom had a chance to finish the sentence.

Instead he blurted out the second thing that came to his mind which was: "But they don't think you're real." Something wicked flashed through Loki's eyes. "Which we both know to be false. You are in fact real and immensely powerful. A cunning force to be reckoned with. To them you are a work of fiction, their tiny brains can't wrap around the concept of something so immense." He noticed Loki calming down a bit. Loki loved to hear others speak of his actions fondly, especially while defaming his enemies in the same breath. The Norse god seemed to be savoring Tom's words. Good, Tom thought, keep going. You've almost got him. "And…well… and they think I'm you. They'll mistake you for me and won't take your commands as serious cries for battle. This would inevitably lead to your disappointment and their untimely deaths. You understand where I'm going with this? And that's – "

"Thomas, you are rambling." Much to Tom's disappointment Loki switched the subject. "I trust you've heard the Midgardian expression:You catch more flies with honey than vinegar." Loki's mouth did another twitchy smile, but his eyes remained oddly sympathetic.

"Yes, I've heard of it."

Loki sighed. His right hand rose up to stroke his lower lip, and appeared to be trying to collect his thoughts. Then with an intake of breath said, "The theory could be applied to assembling an army of loyal followers. Now, let's be honest, I'm lacking in the charm and general liking of the human race," he rolled his eyes as if he did not consider these traits to be flaws, "but you," he said pointing to Tom, "you simply radiate warmth and compassion."

"I'm sorry Loki you've lost me," Tom said in a flat tone.

Loki's lips curled into a sly smile. Leaning forward slightly he said, "Thomas, do you ever wonder why we look so much alike?"

"I don't quite see the resem – "

"We look alike because we are alike. You are my doppelganger, my familiar, my clone," Loki put his hand on his chest, his face brimming over with joy like a proud parent taking credit for their child's accomplishments, "Tom, you are my creation."

Tom cocked his head to the side like a confused Golden Retriever, his eyes squinting and mouth slightly open. Then he pointed a finger at Loki and started to laugh, "Oh, you, git! You had me going there for a second!"

Loki curled his hand into a fist and glowered at the laughing man idiot of him. Loki's right hand shot out and clamped onto Tom's shoulder. As a rule Loki did not touch people. Loki did not like to be touched. Tom had only witnessed Loki touch one other person willingly, the mail man, and it was to throw him down a flight of stairs for accidently delivering their mail to the wrong apartment. For Loki a touch was usually associated with a threat.

But this was different, there was no malice behind it, the fingers did not dig into his skin, but sat there as a comfort. Loki shook his head slowly, blinking back tears. He was extending some sort of compassion, which Tom took as a sign he was telling the truth.

"No. This has gone on long enough." Tom shot up from the bed, knocking Loki's hand away. He simply did not have time to do this anymore. There was no time for a morning run; he had to be in hair and makeup in fifteen minutes, followed by a full day of filming. If he was lucky enough he could grab a granola bar and a bottle of water on the way for breakfast. There was no time for mind games with the God of Mischief today. While packing his bag he caught a glimpse of his companion out of the corner of his eye. A shiver went down his spine. He's telling the truth, he thought, you know he's telling the truth! If this was game and you refused to play he would be absolutely livid. Yet there he sat, docile and allowing him to leave. As if to silence his doubts, Tom shouted "I don't know what you're playing at, but I am done."

"Thomas, sit." And Tom did, this time sitting on the floor and resting his head against the foot of the bed. He wondered why he was sitting. Was it because he chose to, or because Loki commanded it? His heart raced faster and faster as the realization sank in. "You are one of my familiars. I created you. Does this not explain our physical similarities?"

Loki's eyes were wet, silently pleading for an understanding. Tom wondered if his own eyes looked like that. "But I am Tom, I've lived a life. I…" he took a deep breath and stared at his now twitching hands. "I've worked hard to get where I am…"

Loki shifted slightly in the chair, "Not really" At that Tom snapped his attention back to Loki. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You have talent, I won't deny you that. But it was I who pushed you into acting and towards the attention of Kenneth Branagh and into then into the auditions for Thor. Again, Thomas that should have been a red flag. You auditioned for the role of Thor and was given the role of Loki. Why would anyone want to cast an actor auditioning for hero has the mischievous villain?

"Speaking of red flags, shall we discuss the Avengers film? Come now, Thomas, that casting is flawless. Do you really think it was all just a coincidence? I handpicked everyone in that film myself and nudged them into their respected roles. With the exception of Robert Downey Jr, who is actually Iron Man. Stark wormed his way in there and I didn't have the heart to meddle with him.

"And on top off the perfection of the cast to get Joss Whedon to not only write, but direct that glorious film. They were going to have him do a Wonder Woman movie. Can you believe that! Wonder Woman! Our dear Lady Sif could take down that fictitious Amazon with a simple sneeze! And do not get me started on all the sabotage I've done to those DC Comics movies just to make our Marvel movies look good."

Loki went on to describe several his elaborate obstructions in full, but Tom was not listening. "…my family, I have a family…" he whispered as he lifted his pale face to lock eyes with the god.

"False memories," Loki's eyes closed, his head titled bowed slightly. The words that came next were spoken in a soft whisper, "Must I truly explain why I implanted memories of a loving family that cares deeply for you?"

Tom's hands shook. Goosebumps prickled on the backs of his arms and chills went up his back. A dull pain began to form in his head. And a metallic taste filled his mouth. His stomach did flip flops underneath his heaving chest. Each breath he took intensified and quickened. He was sweating, though he was not aware of this. Memories of birthdays and skinned knees filled his head. Insignificant moments from the past suddenly seemed relevant and worthy of remembrance. He didn't realize he was crying until the hot tears turned cold on his face

"Must I really go into how you came to live with me?" Loki continued to talk, ignoring Tom's physical state completely. "There was no need for you to find a new apartment as you were perfectly happy in your old living area. All I did was implant the idea in your head and fiddle with Craigslist to only show you my advertisement. I must also confess that Stitch is not real either. He was inspired by some charming little fur ball from a silly animated movie. Surely the blue alien being accepted into a family bit struck you as odd?"

Though Tom was aware of Loki's words, he did not hear them. His aggressive breathing caused his body to rock back and forth. His abdominal muscles scrunched into themselves forcing his upper body to lurch forward. He rested his forehead on his knees, arms to his sides, hands gripping his ankles, and broke into waves of hysterical sobbing.

How long this went on Tom did not know. When the sobbing stopped he tried to prop his exhausted body up to a sitting position. He ran his shaking hand through his hair, the other wiped snot and tears away on his sleeve. A horribly undignified state, but that did not matter now. He rested his head back on the mattress and stared at Loki's shoes with half opened bloodshot eyes. Seeing their shine in the early morning light made then look unreal, unnatural. His cloudy mind went back to his earlier thought of Loki materializing clothes. Not real. Like me, he thought.

Loki remained oblivious, continuing to talk all through Tom's breakdown. "My intention was to have told you before the first film. That is my wrong doing to you, I admit," his mouth turned into a bittersweet smile, "I fear I have wronged Odin all these years. I dreaded the truth would change who you are. I see you as something I could have become given the proper makings: a kind hearted, intelligent creature loved and respected by many. I've grown to love you as a parent, seeing all the things you've accomplished and the admiration your fans so willingly give you." He looked dreamily up to the ceiling, laughed and, and added, "Even though some of them make even my antics look mild."

"Then why now?" Tom's voice was barely audible. "Why tell me now?"

"If we delay our actions we may very well miss our opportunity. Now is the right time to strike, my dear Thomas. You've gained so much, so quickly and the success only continues to grow."

"And what happens after?" Tom inhaled, cleared his throat, and mustered up a little strength," What happens to me after you've ruled this world?"

"After you've served your purpose you would naturally cease to exist. You know," he flexed his fingers and flicked his wrist in the familiar gesture of dismissing his duplicates. "Of course I'll have to do some reconditioning for you to be more Loki than Tom. I'm thinking of starting with whoever decided to cut all those deleted scenes from Thor, but of course if you've got others in mind…."

"You'll kill me. You will kill me and all my friends and colleagues and everyone I've ever loved!" As Tom shouted he could hear the growl of hatred coming from his throat instantly recognizable as Loki's voice. "All this time I've sympathized and made excuses for you! Grown to love me as a parent you say? You, Loki live up to the title of god of lies and mischief!"

"Ah! We get a bit of drama from the actor!" Loki mocked with amusement." How lucky I am. Will we be quoting Shakespeare next? I do love your renditions of his work."

"No, I won't let you do this to me. Or to anyone else. I may be of you, but I am not you. That is the flaw in your plan." Tom felt like he was 10 years old shouting at the boogieman; standing up to the darkness. He felt a little stronger despite his clear recognition of Loki's voice booming from his own mouth.

"You are a tool for me to use, nothing more. You are mine to do whatever I want with. Your feelings mean nothing because they are not real. Thomas, you are not real."

The god's coolness infuriated Tom. Tom stood up and struck Loki square on his jaw. He may have been one of Loki's clones, but he would play by his own rules. He would be defiant and try to stop whatever devious plans Loki had in mind. Loki's face displayed an unnatural look of shock, but only for a brief second before turning to pure rage. Tom went in for another strike but Loki blocked it with the walking stick.

"That first blow was lucky. I won't allow another." Loki grabbed Tom by his shirt collar with his free hand and hurled him to the floor. Tom hit is head hard on the carpeted floor. He felt rather dizzy as he tried to stand up. He managed to get to his knees before Loki dug ice cold fingers into his throat. As Loki lifted him off the ground Tom took a quick glance to the window and thought: he's going to throw me from the window! Just like in the movie! Loki-clone or not, Tom thought his chance of surviving that was astronomically slim.

"Do you feel the despair in the smallest depths of your pathetic mortal soul?" Loki hissed.

"Yes" Tom coughed.

"And empty like the world cares nothing of your happiness?"

"Yes" This time Tom's voice was barely audible.

"Like something you've cherished all this time only to have it taken from you by a lesser being?" Loki eased his grip enough slightly, expecting an answer.

"Yes!"

Loki's voice started off calm and crescendoed into a catlike screech. "That, Thomas, is how it feels to come home after a long day of mischief to discover your halfwit flat mate ate the last of your delicious pudding!"

"What?" The squeak in Tom's voice had nothing to do with the pressure on his throat. His mind went berserk trying to find some event from the past to understand what Loki was referring to. And then the memory of waking up in the middle of the night, hungry, craving something sweet and finding only Loki's pudding in the fridge. "But it was in there for at least a month."

"That was special Asgardian pudding. A gift from Thor, Thomas! I WAS SAVING IT FOR A SPECIAL OCCASION!"

"I bought you two packages to make up for it. Just for you. You said everything was square."

Loki brought Tom's face closer to his own. "IT HAD MY NAME ON IT THOMAS!" Stream of spit shot from his mouth. Loki looked the picture of rabid dog.

Tom wiped his face and composed himself. "So," he squeaked, and started again with more confidence "So, none of this is true?"

"No. You are Tom Hiddleston. You are an actor," each sentence came out more bark than speech. "And despite my grand knowledge I have no idea why you look like me"

But Tom, despite the solid confirmation, wanted to hear it again. "I'm real?" he asked, "This was all revenge? I'm really me?"

Loki brought Tom's face even closer. Close enough that Tom could feel cold coming off the Frost Giant. Loki inhaled, nostrils flared, mouth twisted sharply into a shark like smile, with eyes lit up like a tree on Christmas Eve, and hissed one single word:

"Loki'd"

The gold handle of Loki's walking stick made brutal contact with the side of Tom's skull causing him to fall back on the floor. He caught the sight of Loki strolling out the door just before blacking out.

He came to to the sound of his cell phone ringing.

On the other line a familiar voice greeted him. "Good morning Mr. Hiddleston "Tom tried to muster up a 'hello', but all that came out was a gargled groan. "That's quite the bump you've got there," the voice continued.

Tom touched his forehead; sure enough a large painful swelling had formed on the left side of his face. They must have bugged the hotel room, he thought, just like his flat. S.H.I.E.L.D. does like to keep tabs on former mass murdering aliens.

"Everything's taken care of. We sent Agents Romanoff and Barton to babysit our friend for a while. They mentioned picking up Doctor Banner on the way to your apartment."

Tom picked himself up off the floor and dragged himself to the bathroom mirror. As he poked at the egg-sized purple lump the voice on the other line continued, "One more thing. There seems to be a strange 24 hour stomach bug making its way through the film crew. Filming for the day will be canceled," he paused and added, "Nothing for you to worry about, of course."

"Bless you, Phil."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hiddleston."

The line went dead. Tom turned off the phone and left it on the bathroom counter, shutting the door behind him for added security. Then he crawled back into the bed. No run, no breakfast, no filming, and no maniacal Norse gods. He wrapped the blankets around himself and settled into a much needed deep sleep.


End file.
